Down the Rabbit Hole
by PinkAngel17
Summary: Brody must go undercover, but undercover stints don't always go as planned...
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I definitely don't own NCIS: New Orleans. Obviously.

A/N: Here we go. Another 'Brody torture' fic. This story was inspired by a photo and conversation. Also, BonesBird will be posting a 'missing scene' that takes place during this story that will be entitled 'Desperate Measures'. This fic isn't really Prody, but like many of my stories it could be if you squint enough. BonesBird's 'Desperate Measures' will, however, definitely be Prody. I highly recommend taking a look at it once it's posted! In the meantime, on with the story...

* * *

The grip on her upper arms was unrelenting as she was forced to keep walking. The handcuffs holding her hands behind her back were far tighter than any agent or police officer would make them. As her captor pushed and shoved her, making sure she kept going even as she stumbled along the way, Merri tried to pry herself free, but it wasn't working.

"Stop it," her captor ordered as she nearly wrenched her arm out of his grip.

He shoved her forward and Merri fell into the metal chair, her knees hitting the edge and her shoulders wrenching in a way that made her wince even though she tried to hide it. Before she could get her feet under her she was pulled up, turned around, and then slammed back into the chair.

"Try to run and I'll shoot you in the back. Got it?"

She gave a nod, not trusting herself to speak without making a comment that would probably put her in an even worse position. He didn't seem to actually be paying all that much attention to her response anyway though. He moved around the chair to stand behind it and she felt him push her forward so he could unlock the handcuffs.

Brody blew a strand of long hair out of her face, but a second later he pulled her back so she was against the back of the chair. She moved her hands from around her back and fought the urge to rub her sore wrist. She wasn't going to present him with anything he might see as weakness though.

He moved to her right side, his scuffed up shoes shuffling against the concrete floor, and quickly grabbed her wrist and tied it to the arm of the chair with a thick wire cord. As soon he had it secure he moved around the back of the chair to do the same to the other side. He was smart enough to stay out of range of her feet and legs which she could kick him with, she noted.

As soon as he was done securing her arms he moved to the front of the chair, standing just out of range of her feet, and before she realized what he was about to do he reached over and tore the wig off her head before stepping back again. The sudden and forceful removal of the wig made her scalp tingle since it'd been applied so flawlessly and her natural short hair had been interwoven in it.

She shook her head, getting her hair to lay flat again. After four months wearing the long hair it felt odd not having it. Her neck suddenly felt cold and bare without it. "This isn't going to work," she told him as he began to leave.

"Shut-up, Alice." He looked back over his shoulder as he stopped in the single entrance. "Or whatever your real name is."

With that he left the room, closing the door behind him with a '_snap_'.


	2. The Beginning

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own NCIS.

A/N: This chapter is rather short as well, but more is on the way. Also, this chapter takes place four months before the prologue. BonesBird's 'Desperate Measures' will be posted soon as well, so keep an eye out for that! Now, a bit of an explanation for how it all started...

* * *

**Four Months Previously:**

"Conference room," Pride said, pointing at the room on the second level of the office as he walked by the desks.

Brody closed the file on her computer and stood to follow. Pride was already heading up the stairs by the time she and LaSalle moved around their desks.

"Know what this is about?" LaSalle asked as they headed towards the conference room.

It wasn't often they actually used the conference room. When they did it was usually for some sort of formal meeting with visiting agents or higher ups. "Noidea," she answered. She and LaSalle had only been in the office for about half an hour though. It was possible they'd missed some guests who'd arrived before them.

As they stepped onto the second level landing she looked immediately into the conference room. Sure enough there were two individuals, both male and both wearing suites with ties, sitting at the table. They wouldn't have been visible from downstairs since they had positioned themselves at the far end of the room. Pride was standing by the door waiting for them, she noted, and he didn't look all that pleased.

"What's going on, King?" LaSalle asked as they approached.

"Don't really know yet." He opened the door and walked on in, holding the door open for her and LaSalle as they stepped into the room. "This is my team, gentlemen. Agents LaSalle and Brody," he said once they were all inside and the two men at the table stood. "Now do you mind introducing yourselves?"

Merri thought it more than a little odd the two men hadn't already introduced themselves to Pride. That along with how they were dressed gave her a suspicion on where they could be from. It only made her all the more curious though.

"I'm Agent Calla and this is Agent Khay," one of the men, the one with dirty blond hair, stated. "We're with the Drug Enforcement Administration."

She'd been close. Her guess had been FBI. She nodded in greeting along with LaSalle.

"If you'll all have a seat we'll explain why we're here," Agent Calla continued.

Brody glanced sideways at Pride and once he gave her and LaSalle the 'go ahead' nod she took a seat at the table across from the agents. Pride sat down next to her and LaSalle sat on his other side while the agents reclaimed their seats.

"Alright, gentlemen," King began. "We're all present and accounted for. What do we owe the pleasure of DEA's visit?"

Agent Khay placed a file on the table as Agent Calla began to explain. "For the last seven months we've been tracking a drug trafficking ring. It was only recently that we were able to discover how they were transporting the drugs though. We were tipped off by Petty Officer Zarren." Calla nodded to is partner who in turn removed a photo from the file and placed it on the table in front of them. In the photo was a young woman, no more than mid-twenties, who had obviously been shot execution style. "Petty Officer Zarren was discovered dead two days later. We weren't able to question her further, so only have the barest of information."

"Petty Officer Zarren's murder makes this a NCIS case," LaSalle pointed out.

"There are other reasons why normally it'd be a NCIS case as well, Agent LaSalle," Khay replied. "Since DEA has been on the case for seven months, however, your director has agreed that you'll pursue it as a joint case now with DEA in lead."

"Director Vance was just informing me of that," Pride said.

That explained his less than pleased expression, Brody thought to herself. "What are the other reasons?" she asked.

"The smuggling ring is comprised of several naval officers. We can't be sure how many," Calla answered. "That's how the drugs are being transported. They're being moved via ships. We believe they're probably being hidden in personal items and snuck aboard, perhaps even placed within cargo containers."

"I assume you already have a plan of action in mind," King stated. "Since you're so forthcoming with information."

It was no secret that NCIS and some of the other bigger government agency didn't exactly get along all the time. Jurisdiction was always a sore spot amongst agencies and in the few months since she'd been in the New Orleans office she'd noticed that they didn't always get along too well with the DEA. Apparently one too many cases had been stolen over the years.

The DEA agents seemed to notice the hint of sarcasm in Pride's tone, but didn't take the bait. "We do," Calla answered. "We think the best course of action at this point is to get someone on the inside. We don't have enough information to make any arrests yet, so we're hoping to get someone inside who can track the deals and find the ones higher up on the food chain."

"You're talking about an undercover op," LaSalle stated.

Khay nodded. "Precisely, Agent LaSalle."

"And NCIS' part?" Pride asked. It seemed pretty clear to all of them what that part would be, but eventually the other agents would have to be forced to say it aloud.

"We'd like one of your team to be the undercover operative," Calla answered without hesitation. "We have already reviewed each of your files and have picked which one we believe would be best suited for the assignment."

"Of course you have," LaSalle muttered from the other side of Pride, just loud enough for Merri to hear. She suspected the other agents had heard as well though.

King looked the two agents over and it was obvious he wasn't any more impressed than Chris was. "And that would be?"

"Agent Brody."


	3. Alice

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own NCIS: New Orleans.

A/N: Did you guys read BonesBird's 'Desperate Measures'? If not you should do that. This chapter takes place not long after the last. Hope you like it!

* * *

Brody took a sharp turn with the motorcycle, ignoring speed limits in the back roads between the deserted factory buildings. There were no police in these neck of the woods. There were few people at all. There were _some _people though and she had no doubt that most were watching her progress through what they believed to be their territory. By the time she reached her destination she knew that they would know she was there.

When she pulled up in front of the run-down building, what was once one of the privately owned Mardi Gras float storage buildings, she came to an abrupt stop and used the toe of her scuffed boots to push the kickstand out. Two men and a woman stepped out of the building as soon as she did, just as expected. She glanced over calmly, making sure to appear completely at ease as she pulled off her black gloves and stuck them in the pocket of her leather jacket, but she quickly took note of the telltale signs of guns just barely hidden beneath clothing. They weren't yet sure who she was or who she worked for, so they weren't taking any unnecessary chances.

Merri pulled the helmet off as she stepped off the motorcycle, her long hair cascading down around her shoulders as she did, and tucked it underneath her arm. The knife she had hidden in her left boot gave her at least a small sense of security. She stayed where she was, not wanting to make any risky moves to set them off, and smirked at them as they approached.

"Something we can help you with, darlin'?" It was the man in the middle who spoke. He had dark hair, the kind of eyes that seemed penetrating, and a confidence that she doubted was faked. She had no doubt he was the leader, at least of the three.

"I heard this was the place I wanted to be," she answered, taking a few slow steps forward.

"Is that so?" He looked her over, his eyes traveling up her body with an appreciative smirk that made her want to roll her eyes. She restrained herself, but when this mission was all over she might have to have a talk with him about manners. "Well let's have a talk than."

She started taking another step forward, but he held up a hand to stop her.

"Not so fast. We need to make sure you aren't bringing any unwanted gear in with you. Can't have you putting us innocent bystanders at risk, now can we?" He nodded to the bulky man to his left who didn't hesitate to move over to her. "Hope you don't mind a pat down."

"Never minded it before," she replied. She met his eyes unflinchingly while the other man began patting her down to check for weapons or a badge. His hands lingered in places that under any other circumstance she would have broken his hands for. As it was she allowed the intrusion into her personal space and didn't react when he found the gun in the back of her jeans' waistband.

The burly man put a hand on her shoulder, his iron clad grip squeezing until she was pretty sure there'd be a bruise, and pushed her forward. She went willingly and made a show of rolling her eyes as the gun was handed over the leader.

He took the weapon and turned it over in his hands while looking it over. "An old Bisley model revolver. Not the usual kind of gun people walk around with in these parts."

"I'm not your usual kind of girl."

He looked up and met her eyes again. There was a challenging spark in them. "I bet you're not. Let's see if you can prove it though." He handed the gun to the woman on his right, who immediately took it and left. "Step into our place of business, Ms...What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't."

"I like to have a name with a pretty face."

"Oh I'm much more than a pretty face," she replied. "But the name's Alice. Alice Bradley."

"Well, Alice Bradley, step into my office and let's have a chat."

* * *

"Alice Bradley," a young woman, the same one who had met her outside with the others, said as she read what Brody assumed was her file on the laptop screen. "Two counts of possession and one count of aggravated assault."

The others standing around the desk holding the laptop all looked over at her. Keven, the only name she'd been given for the apparent leader of the three, looked rather amused judging by his crooked smirk as he met her eyes. "Aggravated assault?"

She returned the smirk with one of her own and shrugged nonchalantly. "A boyfriend at the time. He deserved it."

"Cheat on you?"

"Asked too many questions."

Keven chuckled and looked back at the short haired woman still skimming through the background check. Brody silently sent a thanks to Patton for his work on her background information for her fake persona and made a mental note to buy him a drink when this was all over.

As the three continued to look over Alice Bradley's record she took the chance to get a good look at them. The woman at the computer had a short, nearly buzzed, hair style done with the precision she'd seen often amongst marines. The bulky man who didn't speak much had a similar hairstyle along with the tradition naval tattoo on his upper arm. Then there was Keven. He didn't scream military as the other two did. He appeared to have a tattoo on his back, but she could only see the top of black ink above his t-shirt.

As they poked around in the file a door across the large, empty storage area was slid open and another man strode in. He wasn't as relaxed as the others, but wasn't _too_ tense either. He glanced at her only briefly in passing before stopping near Keven. He had dark hair like Keven, but with dull blue eyes, and a scar on his left hand.

"Who's she?" the newcomer asked.

"Alice Bradley," Keven answered, still looking at the laptop. "Looks like she checks out too." He stepped away from the laptop and moved closer to her. "Congratulations, chere, you are who you say you are."

"Good to know," Merri said, not bothering to cover up the sarcasm lacing the words. "So what now? Are we going to do business or not?"

Keven chuckled and leaned forward, invading her personal space in a far more subtle - yet more intimate - way than his muscle had earlier. Her skin crawled at how close he was, but she remained standing in place and kept any protest off her face. "Patience, Alice. I like taking my time when I'm getting to know new...friends," he added, once again glancing downward at her low cut shirt without bothering to hide the look. A second later, just before she could give in and break his jaw, he turned back towards the others.

She had to give him credit for his willingness to turn his back on her. He wasn't afraid of her, wasn't afraid to present a weakness like taking his eyes off her and turning away while in her striking range, or he was at least confident enough to do so. She made a mental note of the analysis for later.

"Pub, you give our new member a tour. Keep an eye on her, show her the ropes, the usual," Keven said, giving the new-comer a nod.

"You got it," the man she know knew as 'Pub' said. He moved over to her and gestured for her to follow. "Let's go, newbie. Wonderland is waiting for you."

"Sounds great," she said with a scoff before following. She made a point not to look behind her, but she could feel a set of eyes watching her every move.


	4. A Familiar Face

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS:New Orleans.

A/N: This chapter takes place two months into Brody's undercover stint. I've been told that this chapter definitely has hints of Brody/Pride.

* * *

Brody was focused on the conversation going on around her. She was aware of the rest of the club, but her attention needed to appear focused on the seven person group currently lounging on the sofas and armchairs. It was their own little corner of the club apparently. No one had dared come over unless it was to take a drink order or to deliver a drink. Considering three of the group had the obvious appearance of military personnel, she wasn't too surprised.

She was surprised, however, when a tray holding a single drink was suddenly placed in front of her. She looked up at the server with furrowed eyebrows to silently ask where it had come from.

The server took the drink off the tray and placed it on the coffee table in front of her before straightening and nodding to the bar. "A gift from the gentleman at the bar."

She followed his nod and was even more surprised at who she saw turning from the bar counter to look at her. It was none other than Dwayne Pride. She raised an eyebrow at him as an amused smile made the corner of her lips twitch upwards.

"Looks like someone's got an admirer," Sky, the short-haired woman she'd met her first day, said laughingly.

"I'm surprised it took this long," Furrel added with a scoff.

Furrel was one of the transporters, as she'd come to find out. She shot him a 'you're an idiot' look which only made the others laugh. She rolled her eyes at their amusement, but smirked as she stood up.

Keven suddenly turned a little more serious as she watched her. "You going to give him the time of day, Lefty?"

The nickname had been born after she'd punched one of the dealers a few weeks back and as a result it had also been discovered she was left handed. The name had stuck and she was growing more used to it now. Keven especially seemed to like to use it, along with the multitude of other pet names he liked to call her.

She shrugged and bent over to get the drink. She didn't fail to notice the few sets of eyes that took the opportunity to inspect her cleavage in the process. "Might as well. It's better than staring at you idiots the rest of the night. He at least bought me a drink to make my time worth it."

"I bought you a drink an hour ago," Furrel pointed out in protest. "It's not my fault you chose to waste it."

"Pouring it down your pants wasn't wasting it, Fur. It was for the greater good. Something needed to cool you down," she stated dryly.

"Not that it did any good," Sky commented. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do, Lefty."

"That's not a whole lot, now is it?" Pub teased.

As Sky glared over at Pub, Merri took the opportunity to leave the group and head over to the bar. She didn't miss how Keven watched her closely the whole way, but fortunately by the time she reached the bar the crowd had grown and it blocked much of his view. She would still have to be careful though.

"Hey," she greeted.

Pride glanced over her shoulder and back before moving over so she could stand at the bar with him. "Hey. The name's Dwayne," he added.

He was keeping up appearances well, but she wouldn't have expected anything less. "Lefty," she said in return.

"Lefty?"

She could tell the question wasn't just for show. "It's a long story." She smirked and subtly glanced back over at the lounge area and was glad to see that the view was almost entirely blocked now. "Thanks for the drink."

"Buying pretty ladies a drink at a bar has always been my weakness. Nice outfit." The amusement was obvious in his smile as he looked pointedly downward.

It definitely wasn't her usual, there was no doubt about that. For Alice Bradley it was though. Black leather pants, a flaming red v-neck shirt, and a leather jacket combined with the long hair to make her look strikingly different than how Pride or the others would usually see her.

She glanced down and then met his eyes again with the same amused look. "Thanks."

"Want to dance?"

He wasn't asking just because he wanted to dance, she knew. It was a common tactic to get her away from any possibly prying ears. "Why not. Got nothing better to do."

He stepped away from the counter and she left her drink next to his in favor of taking the offered hand. When they reached the center of the club where others were dancing the music changed to a more slow paced rhythm. It was still up-beat and faster than any regular slow-dance, but it gave them a better reason to stand close and dance slowly so they could have a clearer conversation.

He slid his arms around her waist and she hung hers loosely over his shoulders in an attempt to make it look at least a little less intimate in case any of the others happened to still be watching. As the music played they fell into a swaying rhythm all their own.

"How's it going?" he asked softly, keeping his voice low as a precaution.

"So far so good." She glanced over her shoulder as a gap appeared for a moment and noticed none of the others were paying any attention. "I wasn't expecting to see you."

"Linda is across the street at that German restaurant. She saw you come in and sent me a text," he said in answer to her unasked question as if reading her mind.

It was odd to think of anyone going about normal activities. For her it felt as if she was on the clock constantly these days. No matter how deeply she slipped into the persona of Alice Bradley, she kept herself from getting lost completely and as a result she was rarely completely at ease. It was a part of long-term undercover work she'd found.

"They have good food there," she commented. They'd gone there as a team a couple times and the memory made her miss her friends all the more. She'd never had that problem before. She had always distanced herself to some extent and rarely had she been posted somewhere where she'd made such close friends. The team here was more like family than her own biological family was these days.

"Yep, they do. I considered grabbing some and bringing it over, but..."

She nodded slightly to let him know he didn't have to finish. She was undercover and they weren't supposed to know each other. It would be odd for him to bring food over to share with someone he hadn't known he would meet. She rested her head on his shoulder for a moment, hoping it would appear as if the multitude of alcohol she'd had that night was starting to take effect, and she felt his arms wrap around her waist a little more as if to give her support.

"It's kinda weird having a normal conversation," she said softly. "Especially with you. You know, considering..."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," he replied with a chuckle. A few seconds of silence lapsed between them before he spoke again. "Any updates I can take back?"

"No, not really." She had already made contact with Agent Khay the week before to pass along her report thus far. Nothing had developed since then and at the rate the case was going she wondered if it would before she reached retirement age. "I feel like they're still holding back a little. I'm working on it though."

"I know you are," he said reassuringly. "You can do it."

She was glad at least one of them was confident in that. "How's everyone?"

"Alright. We miss you," he answered. "It's not the same around the office without you. Even LaSalle misses having you as a partner."

She chuckled and found herself leaning a little more into him. Maybe those drinks were having an effect after all. "Sure he does," she said sarcastically.

"The DEA were talking about setting up a sting," he told her. "It might not be much longer before you can come home."

She smiled lightly at the term 'home'. She wasn't entirely sure when New Orleans had become her home, but somewhere down the line it had. "Yeah, Khay and I discussed that. I need more time to gather details about the operation before that can happen though."

"Still," he began. "Hopefully you won't have to do this much longer."

There was real, genuine concern and affection in his tone and it made her heart warm. That was another thing she wasn't entirely used to about her life in New Orleans. The amount of honest caring the team showed her was more than she'd expected when she'd first transferred to the New Orleans' office. She closed her eyes for a second and allowed herself to relax, if only for that one meager moment.

"Hopefully," she muttered in return. She opened her eyes and through another gap in the dancing crowd she could just make out the group by the lounge area watching with blatant amusement. It took a second longer to notice Pub snaking his way through the crowd towards them. Her heart beat a little faster for a moment and she mentally berated herself for letting herself relax even for those few seconds. "Heads-up," she whispered and forced herself to go a little more limp. His hold around her waist tightened in response as he held her more firmly, giving the illusion that he was supporting her.

When Pub reached them he didn't look impressed. With a roll of his eyes he grabbed her arm and tugged her away, not so hard as to cause a scene but rough enough to pull her away quickly. "Come on, Lefty. You've had enough for tonight."

She laughed, making a point to sway a little on her feet to help with the intoxicated facade, before punching his shoulder. "You worried about me, Pubs?"

Pub scoffed. "Hardly. You can take care of yourself. The others just didn't want you making a scene with your new..." he trailed off and eyed Pride up and down for a moment with an amused look. "Night entertainment. That last drink much have pushed your limit," he added. He nodded to Pride before starting to steer her away. "Go find another girl, buddy. Have a nice night," he added sarcastically.

Pride kept the act up admirably as he raised his hands in surrender. "Not looking for trouble. Just wanted a dance with the pretty lady. I didn't make her drink anything."

"Uh huh," Pub said in return before walking her back to the lounge area.

"See ya later," Brody called over her shoulder, stumbling over her feet just enough to keep up the illusion. She met Pride's eyes for a moment as she looked back and caught a very subtle nod in return.


	5. Captive

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own NCIS: New Orleans. I'll let you know if that ever changes.

A/N: This chapter skips to the 'present' (four months into the stint) and picks up where the prologue left off. It does, however, also contain a flashback.

* * *

**Present:**

Brody winced as her head was flung backwards from the impact of Pub's fist. She shook her head to clear her suddenly blurry vision and then glared back at her captor. Pub's irritation was blatantly obvious, not only from the punch he'd just given her, but from his very movements and the fire blazing behind his eyes. He knew by now that things hadn't gone as planned. He had to know. The others would have been back by now if everything had gone off without a hitch.

"Who do you work for?" he asked angrily. "You're name isn't Alice, so what is it? The DEA called you 'Brody', is that your name? Do you work for him?"

There was accusation in his tone, a raw hate for her and how she'd seemingly betrayed them, and she wasn't too surprised by it. "No, I don't work for him," she answered as her thoughts migrated to the DEA agent being held elsewhere in the old storage building.

"Then who do you work for?"

She remained silent. There were only so many questions she was willing to answer.

"What's your name?"

She stared ahead as he circled the chair and once again refrained from answering.

He was at her side in an instant and grabbed her chin before roughly pulling her face towards him. He placed the barrel of his gun to her temple, but kept her line of sight clear so she could see his scowl. "What is your name," he said slowly, carefully enunciating each syllable.

She didn't doubt he'd kill her, especially in his current mood. The situation was gradually deteriorating and she knew he could recognize that fact as well as she could. There was no point dying right now, not over a question she could technically answer.

"Meredith Brody," she answered.

He scoffed and straightened, letting the gun fall back to his side and removing his hand from her chin. "I like Alice better. We'll see what Keven thinks when they get back."

He'd tried to make it sound threatening and normally it might have been, but Merri knew none of them would be returning. She raised an eyebrow as she watched him turn and walk to the other side of the room. "You know they aren't coming back, right? Keven and the others. It was a set-up. You're a smart man, you've figured that out by now I'm sure."

He shot her a glare as he continued walking around the room. He was beginning to resemble a caged lion. "They'll be back. Why should I listen to you anyway, Lefty? You've proven you can't be trusted."

"We'll find out, won't we? How long do you plan on standing around here anyway?"

"Shut it, Alice," Pub growled. "I'm going to go check on your friend. Try not to run off," he added dryly.

She watched him leave and watched as the door closed with a '_thud_', the sound of the door locking soon following. Once alone she closed her eyes, making a point to ignore the throbbing in her jaw left over from Pub's fist, and thought back over the events that had lead her here. It seemed much longer than two weeks ago that she'd last had contact with Khay…

_It was late when Brody walked into the alley behind the cafe. It was a mostly deserted area just outside the city and even though the cafe stayed open late, mostly as a service for the night policemen, there were still very few people wondering around. The alley itself was secluded, cut off from view from just about all angles, and so it worked as a half-decent meet-up location for her to make contact. _

_The undercover op was one in which she had very little outside contact anyway. She was always with one of the trafficking personnel and the possibility of being watched by them was too high to make consistent contact with DEA or NCIS. This was, in fact, only the second contact she'd made since going under four months ago._

_Seeing Agent Khay was like a breath of fresh air even though she barely knew the man. He was a reminder of her real life persona. A reminder that eventually this mission would end and she could go home. She smiled upon seeing him approach and the off duty casual attire he wore only had a little to do with it. _

_"Alice," he greeted, keeping to her fake name as usual. _

_"Jack," she said in return, using the code name they'd developed before she'd gone under. "Any good news?"_

_"We traced the license plate number you gave us last time. You were right. The owner is a naval captain. We're waiting until we can take down the operation before approaching him though," Khay answered. "And you?"_

_"I think they're going to be expanding," she said. "Keven and Sky were talking about ammunition transport."_

_Khay tensed, but only nodded without looking too surprised. "Anything else?"_

_"We're going to have to act soon. I think they're planning something big. Some sort of major transport and if they're transporting weapons now too...there's no telling who they're selling to."_

_"You want to do a sting..."_

_She nodded. "We could set up a trap. Lure them off their turf and grab as many as we can. After that the rest will crumble and we can take down the higher ups."_

_"You're sure the rest will dissolve? Not just rebuild?"_

_"I don't think they would. The transporters and dealers are very dependent on Keven and his staff. They're the backbone of the operation. Without them around, I don't think the rest will last. And if we take down the higher-ups than the chances of them rebuilding is almost non-existent," she told him. _

_"I'll bring it up to HQ. We'll discuss options and get back to you."_

_"Don't take your time," she warned. "If we don't get them soon we may not get another chance."_

_He nodded and she was glad to see he was taking her warning seriously. "I'll pass it along. Stay safe, Alice. We'll be in touch."_

_She returned the nod and turned to leave, going back through the cafe without a backwards glance._


	6. Not According To Plan

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own NCIS.

A/N: This chapter has a flashback and a few more explanations...

* * *

Brody had been in tough situations before. She'd done more than one undercover op, most only lasting a couple days, but she had been part of a ten month stint once. It didn't go as planned either. She had almost been killed that time as well.

As Merri looked around her surroundings, taking in what little she could see while bound to the chair, she realized that there were few means of escape. There were no windows and only the single door, which Pub had securely locked from the outside. There wasn't much decor either. Only a long table behind her that she could just barely see out of the corner of her eye when she turned her head.

At the other end of the room was a smaller desk that looked old and worn, probably a leftover from when the building was in use by the storage company like much of the furniture throughout the building, and sitting on top was a tackle box. What was inside she could only guess. A few tattered rags and military issue blankets were also piled not far from the desk. As she studied the pile of material she noted a few dark stains on one of the blankets that looked suspiciously like blood stains. The air was stale, even more so than in the rest of the building, and she doubted the room had much ventilation. There was also the distinct smell of mold and mildew, though she didn't see evidence of any right away.

She shifted in the chair, the wire digging into her wrists deeper in the process, and tested the chair's stability. It wasn't as old as the rest of the furniture apparently and didn't seem willing to give. It barely moved when she tried to scoot backwards and she had a suspicion that the legs were weighted down to prevent any tipping or moving.

Merri relaxed against the back of the chair and stared ahead at the door. She knew that eventually help would come. The plan had been to lure Keven and the others off their usual turf and into a trap. They'd be caught red-handed trying to steal confiscated drugs. She had planned on going with them, but had been left behind. Once Pride realized she wasn't present he and LaSalle would no doubt come to find her though. It was only a matter of time that depended largely on how long it took to take down Keven and the others.

Her main concern at the moment was for Agent Calla. She had no way of knowing if he was even still alive. With Pub around it was hard to say. The plan had definitely not gone as planned on her end.

_"You're staying here, Lefty," Keven stated as they prepared to leave._

_Merri stopped and frowned in confusion. "What? Why?"_

_Keven pointed in the direction where Pub had taken the DEA agent.. "You can keep an eye on our new guest."_

_"But I can go with you and..."_

_"No. You're staying. Do you have a problem with that?" Keven asked menacingly, his eyes darkening as he took a threatening step forward. _

_She glanced over in the direction Pub had taken Agent Calla and back. Calla getting captured hadn't been part of the plan and neither was staying behind at the warehouse. If she stayed she could get the DEA agent out and leave though. It wasn't the plan, but under the circumstances it'd have to do. "No. No problem, Keven."_

_"Good." He gave a brief nod, just as Pub returned, and turned back around to lead everyone out of the warehouse. "Let's go."_

_Brody watched them go for a moment and waited until she was sure they'd had time to leave before turning and making her way to where Pub had put Calla. She jogged down the corridor until she reached the room and used the key that Pub had tossed to her to unlock the door. Pushing the door opened, she immediately spotted Calla tied to a chair with his hands bound to the armrests. He looked a little roughed up, she could just make out a patch of blood matted hair, but not too badly._

_"Hey," she greeted, moving straight towards him. "Give me a minute and I'll have you out of here." She crouched down in front of Calla's chair and began untying the ropes holding his hands to the chair's armrests. "Just hang in there, Calla. We'll be out of here soon."_

_"Brody..."_

_"Almost done."_

_"Brody," he repeated more urgently. _

_She glanced up to see him staring at something behind her. She tensed reflexively and started to turn, but the barrel of a gun suddenly pressed against the back of her head stopped any further movement. _

_"A friend of yours, Lefty?" _

_She recognized Pub's voice instantly and mentally cursed. Keven must have sent him back to stay behind as well. The plan just kept getting more complicated. _


	7. Consequences

Disclaimer: Do I even need to say it this time?

A/N: Things get a little more tense now...

* * *

Brody's head lulled to the side for a moment as the room spun around her. She blinked slowly and lifted her head as she tried to focus. Pub was knelt down at her feet and she realized he was tying her feet to the legs of the chair. She was surprised he hadn't earlier. Apparently kicking him and nearly escaping had given him a reason to though.

She should have kicked harder.

Maybe if she had she wouldn't feel like her head was about to explode. She shifted in the chair, pulling at her hands to try and see if the wire had loosened any since the last time she'd tried. It hadn't. As she pulled, the thick wire only dug deeper, cutting her wrists, and adding to the array of lacerated skin.

Pub hadn't been happy when she'd tried to escape. It had only added to his anger and he'd lashed out. Her ribs could testify to the amount of pent up anger he'd been feeling.

Once finished he stood and kicked her boots out of the way. He'd removed them before binding her feet to the chair. "Don't try that again," he ordered. He put a finger under chin and lifted, turning her face left and right so he could get a look at the damage. She glared back in return and pulled her face away. "Next time I'll just shoot you."

"Given up on waiting for Keven yet?" she asked dryly.

Pub's eyes narrowed and for a moment she thought he might hit her again, but instead he turned and stalked to the other side of the room and back. He was pacing now, she realized. He hadn't done that before. He was even more tense than usual as well.

He was getting nervous. It'd been a couple hours now since Keven and the others had left. They hadn't called or returned as planned and Pub was probably beginning to accept the fact that she'd been telling the truth. They wouldn't be coming back.

A nervous Pub could be even more dangerous than a regular Pub. At the same time it meant he wasn't thinking as straight and it could work to her advantage. It would be a risk to exploit it, but one that may pay off.

"Help isn't coming," she stated calmly. She watched him pace as a smirk spread over her face. "Not for _you_ anyway."

He was in front of her before she could prepare herself and a second later he punched her in the abdomen, knocking the air out of her lungs and sending a sharp stabbing pain through her sides. Her sides felt as though they were on fire and it took her longer than it normally would to force air in and out of her lungs. By the time she looked back up he was stalking through the door and slamming it shut behind him.

* * *

Merri blinked slowly as she tried to stay awake. She hadn't slept much the last few days and combined with the head wound she was almost certain she now had, she was finding it harder and harder to stay conscious. Pub hadn't returned after storming out and she was beginning to wonder where he was and what he was up to.

She apparently didn't have to wonder much longer though.

The door to the room was suddenly thrown open, making her sit up straight and tense in surprise. It wasn't Pub standing in the entrance as she'd expected though. It was Keven. There was a small trickle of blood trailing down from a gash along his hairline and his jeans looked torn, the right leg even bloodied. Mostly though he looked absolutely furious. Almost to the point of looking out of his mind.

He limped into the room, favoring his right leg but seemingly oblivious to the pain. He stared right at her, his anger filled eyes practically spitting fire, and his fists clenched at his sides. Once close enough he lend down, placing his hands on her wrists and making the wire dig even deeper into her already torn skin as he bent over to eye level. She stared back unflinching, but it took all her self-control not to pull away.

"You set this up," he stated lowly.

She didn't answer. He already knew the answer.

"Fur is dead and Sky is in custody. I was almost killed. That's all on you, chere," he added, his voice dipping to a low, dangerous hiss. He moved one of his hands and for a moment she was relieved that the pressure was gone from her wrist, but then he gripped her face with a bruising hold. Her already bruised jaw throbbed painfully, but she fought the cry of pain that wanted to escape.

"They'll be on their way here, Keven. We should go," Pub said. It sounded like he was near the door, but she couldn't see him with Keven so close.

"I was just beginning to like you," Keven continued, ignoring the other man. "We could have been friends." He let go of her face with a shove and then used a finger to trace along her lower lip. "We could have been more than friends."

Merri's skin crawled at his intimate touch, but she refused to show him her discomfort. She glared back at him and when he continued to trace her lips she quickly opened her mouth and bit down on his finger. He quickly pulled away and stood up straight, shaking his hand and rubbing his finger to sooth the pain. Her glared turned to a triumphant smirk.

He muttered something she couldn't quite make out just before raising his hand and back-handing her across the face. Her cheek stung, feeling as if it were on fire, but she turned her face back towards him and continued to smirk.

"How much do they know?" Keven asked.

She shrugged. "Everything." It was a bit of an exaggeration, but the more desperate he was the more mistakes he would make.

He chuckled a mirthless laugh and smirked as well. "I don't think so. We were watching you too closely for that. How did they know we would be there to lift those drugs?"

There was no point hiding the truth now. Telling him the story would only succeed in buying her more time. "Pub said he met you in his family's bar and Sky told me she heard about you while at the same bar. I put the pieces together and figured Pub's bar was your main contact point. A lot of officers go there while on leave and things can be overheard by the right people. When Agent Calla let slip the fact that there was a shipment of confiscated drugs being transported across town, it wasn't an accident. We knew there'd be someone there to overhear it and pass on the information. When you showed up to steal the drugs they were already there waiting. It was a basic set-up," she added. "You took the bait."

Keven looked furious. She was half-expecting him to lash out again and tensed in preparation. To her surprised a smirk twisted the corner of lips upwards instead as a dangerous glimmer filled his stare. "And we got you and that DEA agent in return. How lucky," he drawled sarcastically. He leaned forward again, placing his weight on her injured wrists, and stopped when their faces were just a few inches apart. "I think I should make use out of you why I can. What do you think?"

"Keven," Pub began firmly. "We need to go. Just leave her." Merri heard Pub's footsteps as he approached and out of the corner of her eye she saw him stop next to Keven. She didn't break eye contact with Keven though. "Let's go, buddy," he added, placing a hand on Keven's shoulder in an effort to pull him away.

Keven knocked the hand away. "Leave me alone, Pub."

"We'll get caught. Let's go. She's not worth it," the other man insisted while reaching for Keven's arm.

Keven sneered as he quickly straightened, knocked the hand away, and punched Pub all in one movement it seemed. Pub stumbled back in shock and held his jaw as he stared at Keven. "I said leave me alone," Keven said angrily.

"You're not thinking straight," Pub said in return.

Merri was beginning to believe he was right. Keven was rarely so uncaring about getting caught. That gash on his head might be more serious than it looked. She looked between the two men and waited to see what would happen.

"We can't leave a loose end," Keven deadpanned. "She's a _very_ loose end. You take care of that DEA agent and I'll take care of her." He looked back in her direction and she felt her stomach churn uneasily upon seeing the way he was looking at her.

"Keven..."

"Go!" Keven yelled angrily shooting a glare to the other man. "Don't make me tell you again."

Pub glanced over at her and then back at Keven before apparently deciding to do as he was instructed. "Just hurry up, alright?" He cast one more look her way before heading for the door and closing it behind him, leaving her alone in the room with Keven.


	8. A Job To Do

Disclaimer: I definitely do not own NCIS: New Orleans.

A/N: This picks up immediately where the last chapter left off...

* * *

Keven faced her again, but stood over her for a moment without a word. After a few silent seconds he leaned down, bringing his face close to hers. The urge to recoil at the proximity was almost too strong for Merri to ignore, but she managed to stay in place and met his stare without flinching back. "Did you think you would get away with it?" His voice was soft, but there was a menacing tone to it all the same. "Did you think there wouldn't be consequences?"

"You have your job," she replied evenly. "I have mine."

Keven laughed, but it was a mirthless and almost unhinged laugh. "Is that right?" His right hand flew to her neck, holding tightly and cutting off her air. His hold wasn't tight enough to choke her yet, but it was enough to make it uncomfortable and harder to breathe. "I'm going to have to kill you, Lefty. You know that, right?"

"No you don't," she managed to say as he tightened his hold. She coughed around the tightness and tried to draw in air. "You can turn yourself in. Make a deal."

"I don't think so," he said through clenched teeth. He squeezed, cutting off her air supply entirely and for a moment her vision swam out of focus as her lungs constricted and protested the lack of oxygen. He tightened his grip and her lungs burned. She became lightheaded and could feel herself slipping over the edge, but just before she passed out he let go.

Merri coughed and sucked in a deep breath to fill her burning lungs. Slowly the dizziness she felt began to fade and she tried to calm her ragged breathing.

The feeling of fingers roughly unbuttoning her shirt pulled her from the haze. Keven worked on the small buttons, tearing the material without a care, as a glazed look passed over his eyes. Brody pulled back, trying to get away or shake his hands off, but the chair remained firmly in place and not permitting her to escape. She pulled at the wire around her wrists and ankles, but they too wouldn't budge.

"Hold still," Keven muttered. "I don't have time to fight with you." He fumbled with the third button and bent down further as if to see.

Merri's heart was pounding in her ears as she tried to analyze the situation and come up with a solution as quickly as she could. She closed her eyes tightly, forcing her racing thoughts to slow down, and tried to ignore the feel of his breath prickling her skin as he finally got the button undone.

She opened her eyes as a plan suddenly came to her. "Keven," she softly, putting as much calm and warmth in the name as she could manage. As expected he looked up at the sound of his name being uttered in such a way. His face was only inches from hers and she could feel his heavy breaths hitting her. She smiled sweetly for a second and then, before he could question what she was doing, she rammed her forehead into his nose. The crunching of bone she heard was more satisfying than she'd expected.

Keven pulled back quickly and held his now bleeding nose. When he looked back at her she saw a flash of pure hatred cross his face just seconds before he lunged forward again. Both his hands wrapped around her throat and squeezed tightly.

His sneering face filled her vision and as her air was cut off again, the rest of the world faded away. Her thoughts buzzed wildly for a brief moment before they too began to slow and fade away. "This is what you get for crossing me."

She heard the words through a muffled haze as her vision began to blur and the world spun out of control.

She was barely aware of the sound of a door being flung open, barely registered the yelling of, "NCIS", and when a gun was fired all she was aware of was the burning of her lungs as they struggled to take in oxygen. She was vaguely aware of a heavy weight falling limply into her lap, but paid it no attention.

"Hold on, Brody, we got you."

The voice and owner clicked in the back of her mind and she opened her eyes while still trying to force air into her lungs. "Took you...long enough," she said with a half-smile.

LaSalle flashed her a grin as he began cutting through the wire around her wrist. "We'll be sure to speed it up next time." It was meant as a joke, but the concern in his eyes took away from the humor.

Merri glanced behind him to the body lying on the floor and the SWAT officer checking for a pulse that she could already tell wouldn't be there. LaSalle had aimed to kill, not incapacitate. "What about Calla?" she asked hoarsely. She was still a bit lightheaded and was finding it harder to breath than she normally would.

LaSalle hesitated as he focused on carefully unwinding the wire without doing more damage to her injured wrists. "Paramedics are with him now. Don't worry about it, Brody." He made a face as he pulled a particularly sticky bit of wire from around her wrist. She winced, but the lack of pressure was welcome at the same time. The sound of shoes against concrete and hushed voices filtered through the door just as LaSalle finished freeing her hands. He turned towards the door for a moment to yell, "King! In here!"

The sound of the hurried walking stopped for a moment before it turned to jogging. LaSalle moved down to her feet to begin cutting through the wire there as well just as Pride jogged into the room. He glanced at the unmoving form on the floor before walking over to join her and LaSalle.

"Hey," he greeted, looking her over with furrowed brows. "You alright?"

"I'm fine." The hoarseness of her voice belied the statement even to her own ears and made LaSalle scoff.

Pride crouched down by the side of the chair as his eyes traced the bruises littering her face and neck. He hooked a finger under her chin and gently turned her face so he could get a better look at the damage. It was a welcome touch after Keven's rougher and anger driven ones.

She forced herself to smile through the pain to reassure his blatant worry. "I'm fine," she repeated. "Really."

"You gave us a scare," Pride said. He glanced down at her torn shirt, the first few buttons gone completely or hanging by a thin thread, and then back up to meet her eyes. He stood without question though and slipped off the jacket from over his bulletproof vest. "You didn't show up with the others as planned." Once the jacket was off he draped it over her shoulders and pulled the front together.

"Thanks," she muttered tiredly as she helped adjust the jacket. As she did so her wrists stung painfully and made her hands feel heavier than normal. "Plans were changed," she added.

"Send us a memo next time," LaSalle teased as he removed the last of the wire from around her ankles.

"I'll keep that in mind," she replied sarcastically.

LaSalle stood and looked her over more closely. "You look like you've been run over by a train, Brody."

"Thanks, LaSalle." She rolled her eyes and tried to stand, as soon as she did the lightheadedness returned full force though and a stabbing pain shot through her sides.

"The paramedics will be here in a minute," Pride told her as he placed a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back down into the chair. "Take it easy until then."

"I'm fine," she insisted. She didn't particularly want to be taken out on a stretcher, not while she was still fully capable of walking on her own two feet. Her body seemed to disagree though.

"You were being strangled when I showed up," LaSalle pointed out. "I don't think that constitutes 'fine' in any dictionary."

Out of the corner of her eye she caught Pride looking at her neck as if expecting to find a set of hand prints there. For all she knew there could be. It had certainly felt like Keven had left a mark or two when he'd tried to strangle her. She glanced down at the ground at the now covered body of Keven and pointedly ignored the memory and the way her skin still crawled. A part of her believed she could still feel his hands around her neck, the rough texture of his fingers on her skin, and even the smell of his breath against her face. She brushed the thought away though and refused to give it the time of day.

She'd been in worse positions before. There was no reason she should let this one incident get under her skin. That was what she told herself at least, but she could really use a shower all the same. "Guys, seriously..."

"I can make it an order, you know," Pride pointed out.

Rarely did Pride ever have to make anything to her an order. He was her boss and it was a given that she'd follow his instructions without him having to verbally tell her it was an order. They usually all worked well enough together to read each other and what they needed to do or wanted done anyway. It was hard for her to go along willingly this time though. She didn't want to be fussed over, she didn't want to be poked and prodded by medics, and she definitely didn't want to still be sitting in the chair she'd been held captive in for the last few hours.

She looked back over at the faceless form she knew was Keven and tried not to lose her temper. As she did her thoughts gradually began to drift and she was vaguely aware of the signs of a concussion making themselves known.

Pride sensed her feelings on the matter though, or so it seemed as he watched her intently. "If you're sure you can walk than we'll go out front and meet the ambulance."

She started to protest the need of an ambulance, but then changed her mind. She probably _did_ need to be checked over and they probably would send her to the hospital, but at least she'd be out of the chair. At that very moment she just wanted to be far away from the chair, Keven, and the building as a whole.

Most of all though, she just wanted her regular life back.

She wanted to be Meredith Brody again, not Alice Bradley.

So instead of arguing her point she simple nodded. "Fine."

"She must be in worse shape than she looks," LaSalle began. "She didn't argue."

Merri rolled her eyes again and smirked lightly. "I can still kick your butt, LaSalle, so watch it."

Pride chuckled as he placed a hand on her arm to help her stand. A hand that, as it turned out, came in handy when her entire body seemed to protest the movement involved in standing up. Once standing she paused until her equilibrium balanced out and her ribs stopped screaming at her.

"Good?" Pride asked quietly, making it soft enough so only she could hear and not the other officers that were now going about their work in the small room.

She gave him a small nod and then started walking towards the door. She went slowly, but her ribs still throbbed with each step. They were definitely going to make her go to the hospital.

"So," LaSalle began as the three of them made their way through the DEA infested building and towards the exit. "How _did_ you get the nickname 'Lefty'?"

Brody chuckled and let herself lean a little more against the hand Pride was keeping on her back. "I punched someone."

"Of course you did." LaSalle shook his head and looked around her to Pride. "Are you surprised, King? I'm not surprised."

She smiled lightly as LaSalle continued to tease her and joke with Pride. She'd missed these conversations and she'd missed her team. She'd missed them more than she had thought she would and, as she stepped out into the evening sun and felt her friends close by her side, she was definitely glad that she could finally be Meredith Brody again.

She'd shared a life with Alice long enough.


	9. Aftermath

Disclaimer: Still don't own NCIS:New Orleans.

A/N: We're getting to the end of this fic. Thanks everyone for sticking around and for all the great reviews! Only one chapter left after this one.

* * *

_Merri was at her desk working on a report. It was harder than usual to write up the post-case report about her undercover stint. The memories were oddly jumbled. Every time she had one in her grasp it would disappear, leaving her with distant feelings and vague knowledge that she couldn't quite pinpoint. She'd never had this kind of problem before._

_As she stared at the computer screen she tried to think of the words that would make the events fit into some sort of sequential pattern in a way that others would understand. It wasn't working though. She looked up, expecting to see Pride and LaSalle working as well, but they weren't there. Their desks were empty and she wasn't sure where they'd gone._

_"Guys?" she called._

_There was no reply. The silence stretched on and she decided they'd stepped out somewhere. For lunch maybe. She went back to staring at the report she had yet to write. How long passed she wasn't sure, but suddenly she felt someone breathing on the back of her neck._

_Merri tensed reflexively as a feeling of dread washed over her. Her feet said to run, but her limbs wouldn't move. A pair of large, calloused hands appeared on her shoulders and held her in place with a pressure that was sure to leave bruises._

_The hot breath moved to her ear as her heart hammered against her ribcage. "Hello, Merri," a venom filled voice whispered in her ear. A pair of lips pressed against the skin below her ear, but she was paralyzed. Her hands and feet felt like lead weights that she couldn't move and nothing around her seemed to make any sense. "You couldn't hide forever."_

_As suddenly as they appeared the hands were gone and she found herself standing up, though she wasn't sure where. In the blink of an eye Keven LaMontagne stood in front of her. She backed away, her feet shuffling heavily._

_"Gonna run, chere?"_

_She didn't think. She didn't hesitate. She turned and started running as her heart raced along with her. She didn't look back, but she could feel Keven right behind her...looming closer...and closer..._

Meredith's eyes shot open as she abruptly woke up. Her heart was racing as fast as it had been in the dream and her breathing was even labored. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, wincing slightly when her ribs throbbed, and used the controller to raise the head of the hospital bed so she could lean back against the pillows. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back as she tried to catch her breath and calm her pounding heart. If she didn't calm down soon then the nurses' desk would be alerted. She didn't particularly want company at the moment.

The room was equipped with a window and a quick glance outside told her it was still nighttime. The others had left hours ago after she'd insisted she was fine and she probably wouldn't have visitors again for a few more hours. Even though she was glad to see them all again and happy to be back, she was also relieved she could have a few hours alone. The peace and quiet of the hospital's night shift would hopefully give her a chance to let everything sink in. Considering the nightmare she'd just been having, she apparently needed to.

Keven was dead, so was Fur, and the others were in custody. Pub had been caught running out of the building and had, according to King, made a deal almost the minute he sat down in interrogation. NCIS and DEA had the names of suppliers, transporters, and the higher ups and probably enough evidence to put them all away for life. The case had been wrapped up pretty well it seemed. After four, very nearly five, months of work she was definitely glad about that.

Four months of undercover work, two broken ribs, a fractured cheekbone, lacerated wrists, and a body painted black and blue with various bruises worth of a case was finally over. She should be able to relax now, yet something was keeping her from completely doing so.

Perhaps it was Keven haunting her still. He'd had the kind of presence that stuck with a person and the less-than-pleasant memories he'd left with her could simply have a few lasting consequences that would fade over time. Maybe it was the fact she had yet to leave the hospital in the last two days since the set-up and was getting restless. Of course there was also the possibility of guilt.

Agent Calla hadn't made it. Pub had tied up the 'loose end' just as Keven had instructed. A part of her couldn't help but to feel as though she was partially to blame though. The sting had been her idea, her plan, and if she'd only acted quicker to get them both out of that building before Keven had arrived...

There was no point dwelling on it now though.

Loretta's words, ever wise and perceptive, from the day before rang in her ears for a moment...

"_Not every case can go perfectly, sometimes lives are lost, but the important thing is we keep moving forward and cherish those we have left in our lives_."

The M.E.'s pep talks rarely failed to hit the nail on the head and give Merri exactly what she needed to make her think things through. She could have used someone like Loretta earlier on her life, that was for sure.

A case, even the most simple of cases, could take a turn for the worse at any time. It was something she'd learned long ago. What she knew now though, something she'd learned since joining the New Orleans office, was that facing guilt and mistakes head-on would be better than letting it fester away.

The only thing left to do for the case now was to accept the outcome. Then perhaps the nightmares would fade away just like the bruises eventually would and one day there would be no more discoloration, no more swelling, and no more broken bones to remind her of the past. Soon she would be fully healed and hopefully so would her conscience.


	10. Epilogue: Home At Last

Disclaimer: Still don't own NCIS:New Orleans.

A/N: Here we have the last chapter of this story. Thanks for reading and for all the wonderful reviews! You guys are awesome. I have a longer chapter fic just about done (it just needs a round of editing and a few add-ins) and I also have several oneshots, short chapter fics, and ficlets done that I have yet to post. So more is on the way. Once again, thanks for sticking around! I hope you enjoy this final chapter.

* * *

As Brody stepped out of her car a dull stinging sensation shot through her sides. After three weeks on medical leave her ribs were on their way to being healed, but they were still sore and occasionally painful. The swelling around her cheek and jaw had gone down considerably as well, leaving mostly a few fading bruises. Other than overall soreness she felt much better though. She'd still be kept on desk duty for a few weeks, but at least they were finally allowing her to return to work.

It felt good to be returning after so long. It had been over five months since she'd stepped foot into the office, but it also felt a bit odd to think about what had gone on inside during her absence. Life for the team, for her friends and family, hadn't been put on hold just because she'd left. Cases would have come and gone, things would have happened that were probably both good and bad, and she was behind on it all. Her world had revolved around Alice Bradley, but finally she could put that identity behind her.

As she approached the large door to the office she noticed it was already opened a fraction. That on its own wasn't too odd, though she had been half-expecting King and LaSalle to be waiting outside for her arrival. They had both been thrilled when she'd been cleared to return, even if they weren't entirely convinced she was ready, and had wanted to pick her up and drive her to work themselves. It'd taken a couple days to talk them out of it.

She pushed the door open all the way and stepped inside...

And then stopped abruptly when a round of applause and whistles filled the office.

She looked over the scene in front of her with a grin. Hanging from the railing of the upper level was a banner which read 'Welcome Home, Merri'. Confetti, which she was relatively sure was left over from Mardi Gras, was scattered below where the entire team was standing. Sebastian even held a cake.

Merri laughed as they continued to clap and cheer. She moved fully into the building and they met her half-way to greet her with hugs.

"Welcome home, Merri," Loretta whispered as she wrapped her in a hug, careful to avoid her ribs.

"How are you feeling?" King asked after giving her a hug as well.

"The same as yesterday when you asked," she answered dryly.

"We have cake," Sebastian stated, holding the cake out to show her.

She chuckled upon seeing a miniature Chewbacca wearing a cape under her name as decoration. "You didn't bake it yourself, did you?"

"No," Sebastian answered. "But I happen to make an excellent cake. I use the Jimbalian fudge recipe from Star Trek and..."

"I wanted to make it a superhero," Patton interrupted. "But someone..." He shot a pointed look to Sebastian before continuing. "Switched it to a Chewie at the last minute."

"We added a cape though," LaSalle added, pointing to the red cape on the mini-figure.

"So I see," she said, still grinning. "Thanks. Really, guys, this is great."

"We couldn't just let your return go by unnoticed, now could we?" Loretta said with a warm smile.

"Come on. Let's cut this cake before things get even mushier around here," Christopher teased as he slung an arm around her shoulders and lead the way to the kitchen.

She laughed and shook her head amusedly. She shouldn't have been surprised. It was good to be home and, as they all sat around eating cake and enjoying their time together, she couldn't deny that this was definitely home and these people were definitely her family now.

It was later, once the cake was nearly all gone and they drifted off to do the work that was waiting for them, that Pride joined her at the kitchen counter that she was leaning back against while finishing her coffee. They stood in silence for a moment as LaSalle went into the adjoining office towards his desk while Sebastian and Patton argued over something or another as they left out the back entrance.

"So how are you feeling?" King asked once it was just the two of them. "Really feeling," he added with a knowing look.

She rolled her eyes, but decided not to point out how many times she'd been asked that question in the last few days. Her automatic reply was 'fine', but she stopped herself. "I'm feeling..." she began. "I'm feeling very happy to be home."

Pride smiled and looked down at the floor for a moment while nodding. "We're very happy to have you back too," he said. "In case you couldn't notice."

"I did kind of get that hint," she said with a chuckle.

"Come on," he began, putting his arm around her shoulders just as LaSalle had done earlier. He tucked her closer to his side though, she noticed. It almost felt as if he were being...oddly protective. "We'll fill you in on what you missed."

She nodded in acknowledgement. She had been curious what had gone on in her absence and had no doubt there was a story or two for them to tell. "Thanks."

As they reached the main office, just before stepping fully in, he let his arm slip from her shoulders, but not before he placed a light kiss on her temple, carefully avoiding the lingering bruises. "Welcome back," he whispered one last time before heading for his desk and leaving her standing in the doorway.

_'Oh yeah'_, Merri thought to herself. She was definitely glad to be home.


End file.
